


No Hospitals

by theworldisblue



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: CPR, Gen, Hospitals, Just not yet, Messy Plot, Near Death, Slight Angst?, WIP, almost major character death but not really, but here we are, i would say no plot but ig there sorta is so, idk what prompted me to write this, jason and cass and all them, our other faves will come in later dont worry, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:02:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25944037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworldisblue/pseuds/theworldisblue
Summary: ...the absolute last thing Doctor Booker had expected on his last shift of the night, was for the Dark Knight himself to be wheeled through the ambulance bay, the Batmobile shrieking in behind. The stretcher was pulled into the ER, a small boy stationed atop the man upon it, administering CPR.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne & His Kids, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Comments: 11
Kudos: 135





	1. merely a man

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as one thing but took a mind of its own and became something very different. Maybe I'll wrangle it back around to my original plan by the end, maybe not. Either way, I don't hate this so here we are. 
> 
> Originally I was going to let this out all in one part, but it's taking longer to write than I initially thought it would. Regardless, I am planning to get the whole thing out within the next week or so, so if you do like this, stick around a little.

Most of the time Bad Guys stayed away from Gotham General. 

Not that it was outrageously surprising to anyone that they seemed to like it better confined to the shadows and corners of Crime Alley, rather than on the other side of town under the iridescent white lights of a doctors office. 

Despite this, the doctors at Gotham Gen saw a lot of really Bad Guys come in and out the ambulance bay doors. The Gotham vigilante had a penchant for broken bones and missing teeth apparently, and it was the doctors who were responsible for fixing his mess. It wasn't uncommon to find people coming in, accompanied by police, groaning about “that damn Bat and all his little sidekicks” or lying scarily unconscious or coughing up blood or holding a jagged bone _or_ -

Or anything. Because it was always something. 

Most of the doctors had varied opinions about this. Some of them seemed to relish it, taking the criminal’s pain and matching to it their own. As if the criminal’s injuries could make up for what Gotham has taken from them already. After all, they had become doctors to help those that befell victims of this misery of a city, not to nurse the wounds of those who made it miserable. So, some doctors refused to help these villains, watching on the sidelines with smiling eyes as they howled in a mixture of anger and pain. 

Some doctors were annoyed with _Batman._ After all, he was making _their_ job much harder than it had to be. And although they were sure if Batman went away the amount of victims they treated would rise exponentially, they couldn't help but sigh in a defeated annoyance when a mugger came in clutching an arm that had been broken in three different places. Because, _three different places? Really?_ Especially when it was a busy night for them both, Gotham General overflowing from a recent pile up on the east highway as the vigilante sent in a string of loud dealers and petty thieves. It was much harder to appreciate his efforts when theirs were stretched so very thin.

Nonetheless, most days they did appreciate his efforts, along with the majority of Gotham. 

He was a silent protector, never waiting around to make an appearance with his newest pile of bleeding bodies lying limp and painful in the damp alleys he frequented. No, Batman was quick and efficient, moving on to his next strike within moments of the first. That was simply how he was, of course. 

So the absolute last thing Doctor Booker had expected on his last shift of the night, was for the Dark Knight himself to be wheeled through the ambulance bay, the Batmobile shrieking in behind. The stretcher was pulled into the ER, a small boy stationed atop the man upon it, administering CPR. 

It took Booker a moment to let the sight wash over him. The sight of Robin, soaked through to the bone, bouncing up and down in rhythm on top of a man clad in stark black, like that of the night. Behind the first responders, a cluster of costumed people stood, their faces verging from worry to complete indifference. One was speaking, a couple of the smaller ones in red and purple snatching hands away from the infamous cowl. And Batman dying right in front of him. 

Heroes and vigilantes never came to the hospital. They seemed to be invincible to the hits they suffered, indestructible to no end. It was easy to forget they were, indeed, human. Easy to think they were incapable of death. Because Batman was more a symbol than a man. A shadow laid over the city whispering to you to behave behind closed doors. A thing as forever as time. 

But it was clear now that he was nothing more than mortal, just like them all. It was too easy to forget that, really. 

Brooker took only a moment more than he should, before following the man being wheeled into a private ER room. _Good,_ He thought as he rushed past people and around nurses, _let's get this man some privacy._ The ER had been exploding with chatter, people crying out that the Batman was in the same room as them as if he wasn't dying. As if he was a novelty book that you posed with for a picture and then left behind on a shelf. As if he wasn’t the very real person his presence had just proved to them all he was. 

The costumes followed, brushing off nurses and interns who tried in vain to keep them in the waiting area. They were stubborn, and soon they all stood inside of the cramped room with the rest of them. 

There were hands everywhere, working over the man before them with an intensifying speed. Things were being called out, numbers and status changes, overlapping and blending together in a jumble of indiscernible panic. Because everyone was panicking to some degree. Except maybe the masks, who were standing along the wall, still and stoic as statues. If he hadn't watched them walk in, Brooker might not even have noticed their presence.

Robin was still on top of the man, never faltering in his technique. Brooker tried not to think about how exhausted the child must be, having done CPR for so long. Tried not to think of a child that young fighting crime. Because now that he saw the boy clearly in the overhead lights, his dripping hair plastered on his forehead, Brooker couldn't help but notice how impossibly young he really was. 

And although the CPR probably helped his mentor stay alive out in the field, it was only hindering his chances of survival at the hospital. Who knew how long ago his heart had given out? Who knew how long he had before he was simply unsavable. Before their defibrillators do as much as they would on a rubber boot? Perhaps he had already reached the point of no return. But they wouldn't know unless Robin let them take over, and the chances of this man actually surviving were lowering by the second. 

A problem, because Robin didn't seem to want to budge, viciously tearing himself out of the grasp of all the doctors around him, saying things in an unrecognizable language. 

“Please,” Brooker found himself saying, wondering vaguely if he should be embarrassed he was asking a child for permission to do his job. But, no, this wasn't a time for misplaced shame or his stupid ego. Someone was dying, after all. “We only want to help and if you don't let us he _will_ die.”

“No,” the boy bit back, managing to put a shocking amount of venom in the single word. 

It was then that one of the three masks on the wall finally broke in. Brooker almost rejoiced when a man in blue and black, clearly the adult of the group, grabbed Robin around his arms and lifted him off Batman. The man wasn’t wet like Robin was, in fact he was covered in a thick soot, a trickle of red running down his face from a cut above his eyebrow. Robin put up quite a fight, kicking and flaring and struggling to stay put, but it seems they had finally found someone who could overpower his strength. 

As soon as Robin was pulled away, different doctors swooped in like vultures, pulling off the remaining kevlar on Batman’s chest so that they could attempt to save him. The two teens, red and purple, stayed hovering around Batman’s cowl, as if challenging someone to so much as touch it. The man in blue and black, _Nightwing_ Brooker remembered vaguely, had fallen back into a crouch against the far corner of the room, Robin firmly locked in his arms. The boy was still struggling, but less so now, saying something utterly unintelligible. It hurt, hearing how distressed the kid sounded. Nightwing was whispering things in the boy's ear and Brooker found himself hoping the words were comforting rather than instructional. After all, from what he’d heard, these people acted like soldiers. And soldiers weren't exactly comforted by their commanding officer.

He moved back towards Batman who was being shocked for the third time with no results and tried to iron out his jangled nerves. _Batman could not die on his table. He could not be the doctor that let Batman die._

The two teens had come closer now and it startled Brooker only slightly to seeing their clasped hands. They were practically hugging each other, reminiscent of the family Brooker had watched hold each other and cry as they watched a loved one code out. 

Except these two weren't crying. Their eyes weren’t even misty. Purple was chewing on her lip, heading snapping from screen to screen to person to person, fiddling with the clasp on the cape of her suit with her free hand. Red, displaying almost the opposite, was stock still, eyes trained on Batman with a withering intensity. 

It was obvious there was more to them than just a team dynamic. They were close. So much closer than Brooker had initially assumed any of them would be. And the thought made his stomach lurch quite uncomfortably. _How would they react if Batman died? What would they be willing to do?_

Surely not attack the doctors who let him die. No, of course not, because they protected the innocent. They protected those who did good, like doctors. And they were children. Children were not so unnecessarily cruel. But these weren’t exactly normal children. Brooker found himself hoping he was just being paranoid.

Panic was rising as he called clear for the fourth time, shocking the man on the table. Time seemed to set still for a breathless moment as Brooker stared at the screen, waiting in apprehension for a heartbeat to appear. 

_Please._

The air was as charged as the defibrillator, static and itchy against his skin. 

_Please don't die._

He could almost feel the despairing hope that seemed to flit around, settling on them all. 

_Please god don’t let Batman die._

And then there was a beep. And another, and one more to follow. There was a collective sigh of relief from the room, Robin finally going limp in Nightwings arms. Purple visibly relaxed, turning to rest her head on Red’s shoulder in relief. 

They all stood for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall in steady motions, almost as if waiting for it to stop once more. He turned to the rest of the costumed vigilantes around him as a few doctors took over care for Batman and said:

“Any injuries I can treat while you’re here?


	2. those that remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jason
> 
> &
> 
> barbara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi
> 
> Ok look, I greatly underestimated how long this story was going to take me to write. Oops.
> 
> So yeah, definitely longer than a "week or so" but, what can you do. Anyway, this chapter is kind of a filler/transition. This story is actively taking a mind of its own so its going to be much longer, but I did want to get something out there within the time period I so stupidly gave myself. So this chapter is very short and I am very sorry. It would have been longer, but I'm having a field day with pov switches and I really don't want to put more than two switches in one chapter. Sorry again!
> 
> Regardless of all that, I hope you enjoy this and please tell me your thoughts down below.

Jason tried not to notice the badly hidden stares and hushed whispers that swirled around him in the ambulance bay. He had moved the Batmobile farther in, parking it somewhere on the side. Partly because he wanted the extra cover away from prying eyes, but also because he wanted to make room for any more incoming ambulances. So far, none had come. 

He tried not to think about the last time he had been to a hospital. How much he  _ hated _ them. The whole place was a ghost town, full of dying or dead people and trapped souls desperately trying to find their way home. Of doctors who tried and tried to save the whole world, but failed as they went to tell unsuspecting families everything had changed. They were horrible places, and Jason stayed far away if he could help it. 

But he couldn't help it this time. Because Bruce’s heart had stopped, sure as day right in front of him. Because demon brat had been thrown into the way-to-cold waters of Gotham bay and his stupid brother and stupid replacement and stupid Stephanie had almost been blown to hell. And because both Cassandra and Barbara were out right now trying to find the fucker who did this. That Jason wasn't with them because the thought of being anywhere but Bruce’s side when he's dying had seemed to scorch him from the inside out. But, he just  _ couldn't  _ bring himself to watch the old man die and he sure as hell wanted to stay out of that hospital. So here he was, babysitting the Batmobile and trying to still his shaking hands enough to have a damn smoke. 

It was supposed to be a simple drug bust. Sure, a big one, but nothing  _ too _ dangerous. Jobs like this were the equivalent of family game night for their team. Call in everyone who wants to come for an hour of good ol’ family bonding time, before finishing up and heading out on all their objective tasks to keep Gotham from going belly-up.  _ Easy.  _

But they had gotten cocky. They all knew it. They had cut corners, skipped steps. Assumed things to save time and joked far too much. Perhaps this would be a valuable lesson in the future. Right now it just sucked. 

Because when the first group had gone into the warehouse, something went wrong. And whatever it was, whatever was triggered, sent the brat flying out of the building first. If the warehouse hadn't been right on the bay he would have gone splat on the pavement and been no more. That was nothing but pure luck. The others inside only had moments before everything else went to shit. Jason didn't know exactly what happened, as he was the one who dove after Damian in the bay. When he came back up, the boy scarily cold in his arms, the warehouse was blown to high hell, and the rest were huddled around Bruce, who’s heart had stopped. 

There was no time for story swapping, so the only people who really knew what happened were Dick, Steph, Tim, and Damian, but only because they had been inside. The group clamored over to the Batmobile, Damian positioned over the old man in CPR, talking over each other. No one seemed to be able to agree on what they were supposed to do. But how could they, with the fact that Bruce was actively dying distracting them just slightly.

In the end, the Batcave was too far, but the hospital was only half the time away. Cass and Babs left moments after the decision was made, anger radiating from them in copious amounts, to find the person responsible for this whole mess. Jason knew he should probably accompany them, but he found himself in the driver's seat of the car instead, speeding the Gotham General. 

And now here he was, waiting impatiently for someone to come and tell him  _ something.  _ He kept clicking his comm, ready to ask the girls for an update, before thinking better of it and pulling his hand down once more. He glanced over to the opening of the hospital every few seconds, praying that maybe this time he would see one of the bright colors of his siblings' costumes coming towards him. He even tried to contact Kate and Alfred. Neither of them had answered yet. 

So it was just him, alone with his fears and his thoughts and his  _ anger.  _ Because tonight had started out a good night. It was looking as if he might get home early, catch up on some sleep. Even Replacement didn't annoy him as much as he usually did. It had all gone so wrong so quick. Over something as dumb and reckless as a drug bust. They handled those solo  _ all the time. _ It was ridiculous that this would be the thing to take Bruce out. No, not the cult of assassins that comes around every now and then like clockwork to destroy the city or kidnap one of them, or the killer clown who’s been like water slipping between their fingers for longer than Jason could remember, but a simple, overlooked drug bust. 

Because  _ of course _ that would be what kills Bruce. Because nothing made sense anymore. Nothing at all.

  
  


*********

  
  


_ Bruce could be dead right now _ . It’s all Barbara could think from her place on the roof beside Orphan. The girl hadn’t said anything since their departure, and although Barbara usually found it nice, the silence was impossibly oppressive now. She didn't want quiet because she didn't want to have to think. To imagine what they would do if Bruce didn't pull through. 

She wished that she could focus on the task ahead like Cass did so beautifully. The girl was spectacular at compartmentalization, letting nothing phase her until she wanted it so. Cass was as composed as ever, holding herself with the same effortless grace that never seemed to cease.

Oh how nice it must be to never fall apart. To never sit tight as a wire, worrying threatening to spill over the surface in the dark silence of the night. What she would give to know that this very moment. 

The trap had obviously been set for them, though how not a single one of them deduced it beforehand alluded her. It was a stupid, stupid mistake they had made. That was the only real explanation, no matter how much she wanted it to be different. They had all messed up, royally, and now they had to try to salvage what they had so recklessly let be broken. 

But now isn't the time to dwell on any of that. She had to be undistracted, focused on the task ahead of them. She tried to mentally cast her thoughts and worries away, imagining herself throwing them into the deep lake that runs beyond the forest on the Kent's farm. It always helped before. It didn't prove as victorious now.

Beside her, Cass shifted ever so slightly. It was her way of drawing Barbara’s attention. It was time for them to move. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> damian
> 
> &
> 
> tim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been awhile but this story was just giving me the hardest time. Still is, really. There's just so many things I wanted to do with it and none of it was fitting together the way I wanted. I think I figured it out now, but we'll see how it goes. 
> 
> This chapter is sort of another filler. Sorry about that, but I actually quite like it so I'm posting it. Also, there's very little editing.
> 
> Again sorry for the long wait and I hope you enjoy!

Hospitals were cold. Not that Tim wasn't used to the cold. No, the Batcave was usually chilling, even on the hottest days. It was nice some of the time, like when he was running and training and exerting himself, and he could press one of the batarangs that are left lying around up to his forehead to cool himself off. Or when Alfred brought down some of his homemade hot chocolate and Bruce couldn't say no because "it is simply too cold in here, Master Bruce, I insist". 

Sometimes it sucked. Like when he was injured and lying on the thin cot in the medical area being stitched up or something similar, shivering from the pinprickling iciness in his skin. Or when it was winter and the days were miserable, making his long nights in the cave seem even longer. 

The hospital cold was more like the latter. It felt empty here, despite the crowded room. The doctors had moved Bruce to a private room not too long ago, claiming that they could figure out what to do next when he awoke. Tim didn't tell them that he knew exactly what was going to happen. 

The doctors would come by to check in, like they did every hour, and see all the inhabitants gone, seemingly evaporating into the air as if they had never even been there. 

But that wasn’t until Bruce awoke. Until he was well enough to wake up, anyway. Having your heart stop isn't exactly something you can bounce back from. Though, Tim couldn't scrape the thought away that if  _ anyone _ could, it would be Bruce. 

No one talked. The silence was heavy and he knew that they were all thinking the same thing, underneath it all. The silence, it seemed, was louder than actual talking could have ever been. 

Jason had come through the window a few hours after Bruce didn't die, mumbling something about how he dropped the Batmobile off at home, mentioning that Kate was going to be able to handle Gotham for the rest of the night. He settled in the corner of the room after that, pretending he wasn't staring at Bruce from under his hood. He had been like a statue ever since. 

The girls checked in shortly after, sounding out of breath and agitated. They were no closer to finding the guys who did this, it seemed. Tim couldn't help but brush off their words. Bruce being alive almost made that part of the issue irrelevant. Whoever it was that set that trap had failed and, for now, that's all he could bring himself to care about. 

He stared at Bruce for a while, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, inwardly calming himself with the image. There was a moment there where he had thought Bruce would really die, that the seemingly unbreakable man would be broken. 

Dick was in a chair next to Bruce, a thick bandage settled above his eye. His costume was slightly more black, the usually crisp edges of the bird smudged with a coat of ash. He smelled like burnt air and metal, his messy hair entrapped in a few pieces of rubble. Tim noted vaguely that Dick was the only one who wasn’t staring at Bruce like the man might start fading from existence at any moment, instead holding his head in his hands tiredly. It had been a long day. 

Damian was sitting against the wall to Dick’s back, curled up into a little block of red, green, yellow and black. He was clutching one of the hospital blankets around him, hair long since dried into a matted mess around his head. He was scowling, but Tim had now known Damian long enough to see through the kid’s tough exterior. To see that Damian was simply as scared as all the rest of them.

Steph sat by his feet. Tim had picked a chair right next to the door, scrubbing soot out of his own eyes as he did so. Steph, looking lost, settled on the floor just slightly to the side of his legs, leaning against the chair for comfort. Tim might have guessed that she was asleep if it wasn't for the soft click of her snapping and unsnapping the clasp on her cape. Tim found himself wondering idly when she had picked up the nervous habit. 

The girls did return some time later. How long, exactly, Tim didn't know, but the sky was just lightening now, the first rays of sunlight starting to peek through the small window. No one made an effort to move out of their places when they arrived, crawling through the window dejectedly. He didn't have to ask to know they never found the man behind this whole thing. In fact, the more time Tim had to sit and think about it, the more he realized that the drug operation was probably a cover for the trap and not the other way around. The explosion wasn't a precaution, but the initial plan. Someone had tried to kill them all. They had almost succeeded too.

Cass went over to sit next to Damian, silently pulling him into her arms. Tim watched disinterestedly as Damian relaxed his incredibly tense muscles, melting into her grasp. Babs pulled up a chair to sit next to Dick, silently putting a hand up on his arm.

And now all they were doing was waiting, uneasiness growing with each passing minute. Soon the sun would be up enough for the day to start. Tim tried not to think about how much it would suck to spend a day in the hospital with Batman recovering, but it seemed with every new ray of sun shining in on the tacky tile floor, they would. So much for sneaking off into the shadows of the night before the doctors could come back.

His siblings undoubtedly realized the same thing, their shoulders tensing just a tad more with each passing moment. He half expected a few of them to leave, not wishing to be seen by the hospital staff, but alas they all stayed, rooted to their spots like statues. And he understood it. 

Time had been still for so long, save for the gentle sun rising, gradually lighting up the room with a golden glow, that when a soft knock sounded at the door, he almost jumped out of his skin. Everyone else in the room startled too, all shifting from their statue-like positions, save for Bruce, who stayed as still as ever. 

The knock sounded again, louder this time, and with more conviction. It took longer than Tim would have liked to get up, his tight muscles seeming to snap like rubber bands all over as he cracked open the door. Behind it was the same doctor from yesterday, his blond hair and glasses complementing kind eyes. There were a couple more people as well, a few nurses, maybe, smiling kindly. Tim resisted the urge to groan loudly as he stepped aside, letting the three of them into the room. 

The doctor, Brooker, Tim remembered vaguely seemed taken back for a slight moment, probably from the new masks sitting around the room, before turning to address Dick. “Hi, Nightwing, it's, well, it's nice to see our friend is still stable.” the doctor nodded his head towards Bruce before continuing, “This is Nurse Cross and Nurse Gilardi. They helped me with your case yesterday.”

The two nurses, a boy with a dopey smile and a young girl with red hair and freckles, beamed at Tim and the others, like they had just won the lottery and this was their prize. 

“This is quite an unusual case, as I’m sure you know. None of the normal protocol advocates for situations like this one. We aren't sure exactly how to go about check outs and billing quite yet, but we wanted to give Batman a chance to wake up before worrying about all that-”

“Who’s we?” Jason asked, effectively cutting Dr. Brooker off as he pushed himself out of his corner. 

“I- uh- the hospital board held an emergency meeting last night. But really, you don't want to worry about all of that just yet-”

“So you’re saying you already decided exactly what you’re gonna do, and we don't get to know, let alone a vote.” Steph said, turning her body to face the room more fully.

“I- no. We just figured you would all want a chance to have Batman recover before getting into any of that-”

“Why didn’t you just ask us?” Jason challenged. It would have been more intimidating if he had his helmet on, but he had retired it long before, so all he had was a bright red mask on his face.

Tim debated telling the doctor that there was no way they were going to let the hospital get a say in when and how they left. They were simply going to head out the night Bruce was ready too, billing handled through an anonymous donation to the hospital. 

“Hood,” Dick said now, “enough.”

Jason rolled his eyes, but stepped back, silent once more. 

“Look,” Dr. Brooker started back up again, “Perhaps we could all discuss this later. For now, you are welcome in the cafeteria. There’s food in there if you’re hungry and if you need anything else, Nurse Cross and Nurse Gilardi will be available.”

Dick only nodded, thanking the doctor before following him into the hall to get specifics on Bruce’s condition, which seemed to be good as of right now. Since it seemed everyone was planning to camp out at Bruce’s side for the day Babs volunteered to make a trip to the manor to grab anything they might want. Tim requested his laptop as Steph called Alfred, confirming that he had come up with a story for why none of the Waynes would be leaving their house today.

After Babs had left, calling Kate for a ride, and Stephanie hung up on the phone as Dick took his seat next to Bruce’s side, they lapsed into silence once more.

**********

  
  


The day had gone by impossibly slow, all of the siblings sitting in the same room pretty much the entire time. When Drake got his computer, he immediately got to work, Gordon at his side as he frantically searched for what they had missed the night before. To find out how to find the perpetrators. He was entirely in his own world, hunched over as his fingers flew across the keys and Gordon pointed at the screen every so often, murmuring something.

Cain had since left Damian’s side, falling next to Grayson in Gordon’s abandoned seat. She was signing to him, undoubtedly trying to ease his conscience over the whole thing. He blamed himself. It was written in the set of his jaw and the stiffness of his posture.

Except it hadn’t been Grayson’s fault in the slightest. Damian knew that as fact. Because it was  _ his  _ fault father almost died. Damian was the one who didn’t check his surroundings thoroughly enough, allowing for himself to trip the sensors set around the warehouse. He was the one who Father threw into the bay, saving him from the exploding building. If it wasn’t for that, Father might have found cover like the others, but protecting Damian had taken all his time, and he caught the very brunt of it. He was mostly untouched, save for his heart, which had stopped. It seemed the kevlar armor did enough to protect his skin, but not what truly mattered. His life.

So Damian didn’t dare interrupt his brother and sister, hoping Cain was doing well to convince Grayson of his innocence. 

Todd was on his phone, calling all the contacts he knew to see if they had any information on the explosion. Loudly, too. He sounded angry, growling things into the phone, his words reminiscent of his Bad Guy days. It took all Damian had not to shrink away from the viciousness of the man, amending that none of it was directed at him. 

Except, it felt like it was. Because Todd was angry over Father’s condition and it was all Damian’s fault. Damian couldn’t help but wonder if Todd would regret pulling him out of the bay when he found out. The answer, which would most definitely be yes, hurt more than Damian anticipated it would. 

“Hey kiddo,” Brown said, standing in front of him. Her blonde hair was thoroughly messed up, black bits of soot settling on the surface. She looked tired, her eyes glassy and red. Despite it all, she was giving Damian a rueful smile, offering him a gloved hand. “Wanna come get some food with me?”

Damian found himself eternally grateful for an excuse to leave the room that he didn’t even snap at her for using the demeaning nickname. In fact, he allowed her to pull him to his feet. His costume was dry now, not damp and cold as it had been the night before, but he could still feel the wet, hanging on him as he followed Brown out of the room.

He traced her steps aimlessly, letting her take the lead as they made their way through the hospital. It was only slightly odd that she seemed to know exactly where she was going, but he tucked the thought away, too tired to analyze it as he usually would. 

The cafeteria of the hospital was white, just as everything else was. There were metal tables at different vicinies of the room, cheap plastic chairs loosely sitting around them. People were in the room as well, medical people in lab coats mostly, chatting and eating. At least, they were before the teens walked in. The minute the pair entered the room all conversation dropped off, eyes snapping to follow them as Steph made her way over to what looked like muffins. 

Damian tried not to let it bother him as he weaved around people to keep up with his companion. The weight of all of their gazes made him itchy and bothered. Part of him wished he would have just stayed in that little room with Todd’s accusations. Perhaps this was his punishment for failing so spectacularly. 

“Do you think Red would want something?” Brown asked him, her voice traveling in the silent room. He tried not to cringe at the knowledge that everyone was so clearly listening in on their conversation. It didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. 

“How am I supposed to know?” He snapped back, his usual defensiveness taking over in light of his discomfort. 

“Well I would’ve asked but you know how he gets when he’s focused,” She paused, examining her blueberry muffin and picking around the fruit. “Who am I kidding, he practically lives on coffee.” 

She let out a huffing laugh as she continued to fill a flimsy paper plate with different pastries and baked goods, seemingly not noticing how uncomfortable Damian was. He shifted from foot to foot in uncertainty before turning to where the fruit was sitting.

“Oh yeah,” she called, “forgot you’re vegan now little bird.”

Damian grit his teeth to not retaliate for the nickname. Instead he said, “I’m not surprised,” and then, as an afterthought, “Nightwing doesn’t like the lemon ones.”

Steph looked up for a moment, the lemon-flavored desserts piled on her plate threatening to topple over. “Yeah, but Hood does and you know how he gets.”

They lapsed into silence after that, shuffling around the echoey room to get all the things they needed before heading back. Damian, for one, was  _ not _ making another trip. And then, as Steph balanced plates of food and steaming cups of coffee in her arms, watching Damian as he finished filling cups of water for other non-coffee drinkers, she said, “He’s gonna be ok, you know.”

Damian scoffed at first, hating how painfully silent it still was in the cafeteria. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with an audience. Still, his doubt won out, and he ended up asking, quite bitterly, “Tt and how would  _ you _ know?” That was going to be the end, but a sour feeling overtook his chest and soon he couldn't stop himself. “If he never awakes your life will go on as always. I will be the only one between us misplaced. Keep your blind hope to yourself.”

There were a few gasps within the room and Damian tried not to cringe. “Look kid, I love him too. We all do. And I’ve known him a little longer too. Long enough to know he  _ will _ make it.”

“And if you are wrong?”

She cocked her head, as if the answer was painfully obvious. “Then we’ll be there. You’re never misplaced with us around, ever.”

Her words made something in him float, free and careless and happy. But he also felt it crashing down soon after. After all, once they knew that it was  _ his  _ fault Father was hurt they would hate him. Especially if Father didn't make it. That would be his punishment for failure. He would have no one. 

“Tt. Lets go”

Thankfully, by the time they arrived back in the little room Jason was off his phone. It was silent once more, Cass and Dick leaning on each other while the soft beeps from the machines around the room overlapped Bruce’s gentle breathing. 

Throughout the day they came and went, needing showers and fresh costumes, but none of them were willing to leave for more than an hour at a time. It was only slightly odd, how clingy everyone was acting. Sure, they had all had their close encounters with death. But this was Bruce and everything seemed to be different when it was Bruce. 

That night, it was a struggle deciding who among them would go out for patrol. Damian was barred in the very beginning from Grayson (“Robin doesn’t go out without Batman lil’ D. You know that.”) and Todd had vehemently refused to leave. 

Drake, to Damian’s annoyance, proved his usefulness once more by finding a lead. It's a bit of a stretch, really. Drake seems to think that this was a revenge story between families for some reason, but he isn’t quite sure about the details yet. Because leave it to Drake to find a lead that makes zero sense. 

Regardless, those of his siblings that were going out split tasks among themselves. Drake and Brown were going to follow up on his lead while Cain, Gordon, and Grayson helped Batwoman patrol Gotham.

And Damian was stuck in this oppressive little room with an angry Todd. Because of course he was. Because nothing made much sense anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear any feedback you might have! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading and, as always, I would love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Please, please stay safe out there and have a wonderful rest of your day/night.


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